


Good Things Fall Apart

by Yenneferrrr



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Best Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28461153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yenneferrrr/pseuds/Yenneferrrr
Summary: "I thought you and Grissom were close," the younger lab technician questioned. Her blue eyes drill into him, and Greg knows he's hit a nerve with the blonde CSI. "We are," she says, her voice stern and unwavering.
Relationships: Gil Grissom/Catherine Willows
Kudos: 6





	Good Things Fall Apart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! And Happy New Year's Eve! Another Grillows work just in time to ring in the new year. I got this idea while watching an episode from season one, I think. I tried to keep it as canon as I could. I honestly feel like the two of them have some kind of past, but could never really their timing right. Two songs inspired this! Good Things Fall Apart by ILLENIUM and Everything Changes by Staind. (Really showing my age with that last one LOL). Sorry for any grammar mistakes!

It’s a cold December morning when they meet. He’s just finished a tiresome night shift, and as he falls into the driver’s seat of his frigid car, he lets his head fall back when he realizes he’ll have to make a stop at the grocery store. Normally, he’d procrastinate… wait for a night when he was off of work, fully rested. But he doesn’t recall seeing anything worth his time in the fridge; no eggs, no fruit, no vegetables, no orange juice- nothing. 

The popular grocery store is only a few minutes away from his townhouse, and he bargains that although it’s inconvenient for him to lose a few minutes of sleep, the store is nearly empty and maybe the shopping won’t take as long as he thought. 

Stepping into the harshly lit building, he grabs a shopping cart and gets to work. He’s always liked how this particular store was mapped; starting out in the non-perishable section and ending in the dairy. He grabs a bag of salted cashews, a box of crackers, a pack of pasta noodles, a box of oatmeal. And when he looks up from his items to scope out what he’ll grab next, he sees her.

A fellow night-shifter by the looks of it. Her strawberry blonde hair pulled back into a high pony-tail, a simple gray sweatshirt, tight jeans, sneakers, and sporting a tired expression, much like his own. There’s no denying she’s a beautiful woman, and even with exhaustion written all over her face, he suspects she’s out of his league. And just as he’s about to avert his gaze, she catches him staring, and offers up a tired smile. 

“Hi,” he hears her say, as they pass one another in the aisle. It’s one of the most pleasant exchanges he’s had in this store, and in all of Las Vegas, and although the exchange takes only a few seconds, he inertly feels that she’s a good person. He hopes he never sees her again… for all the right reasons.

“Morning,” he says back, nodding his head in her direction as a greeting. 

And then it’s over, but… for whatever reason, he can feel his pulse quicken a little. It’s a very quick and subtle change, but he feels it, nonetheless. He tries to shake the feeling, and continues shopping. He turns down the next aisle, sees her engrossed in the nutritional facts of some blueberry muffin mix, and walks past her. There’s a few things he chunks into his basket, and proceeds down the next aisle over. 

He’s alone again, takes the time to look at the contents of the shelves on either side of him, but he can’t fight the grin when he sees her turn the corner. They’re shopping opposite of each other, and if they keep it up, they’ll see each other down every aisle. She flashes an amused smile when she sees him again, and when they get closer to each other, she speaks up. She can tell he’s one of the innocent ones.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were following me.”

He throws his hands up in defense, watching as his own grin makes her smile wider. 

“It’s just a coincidence, I promise.”

“Sure,” she says, not entirely convinced. She motions to him with a quick point of her finger. “Night shift,” she asks, knowing there was only one reason people like them would be shopping at such an early hour. He nods, and she relaxes a bit. “What is it you do?”

He’s resting his arms against the handle of the basket, a new found energy since he’s started talking to his shopping companion. He doesn’t want to scare her off, as he’s done with the rest of attractive women who’ve given him the time of day. Telling her about the bugs and the dead bodies didn’t seem appropriate, and he grins to himself again when he realizes he’s starting to learn ‘people skills’, as his ex-girlfriend had called it.

“I work with people,” he says vaguely, keeping the gruesome details to himself. “And yourself?” It takes her a moment to reply, only because she’s holding back her giggle. She’s amused, and whether it’s from how ridiculous this is at seven o’clock in the morning, or the fact that they’ve got more in common than they really knew, he wasn’t sure.

“I could say the same,” she says, also refusing to tell him exactly what it was she did for a living. Normally, she’d have no problem telling people about her job; she wasn’t embarrassed about how she made her money, but for some reason… she doesn’t want to scare him off.

“And you come here at the break of dawn… to avoid said people?” She tilts her head.

“It’s the one time of day when I get some peace and quiet.” He nods in agreement, pushes himself up from hunching over the basket, and bows his head. 

“In that case, I’ll leave you to your shopping.” 

She opens her mouth as he begins to push his basket, but realizes how silly she’ll sound by trying to get him to stay… and talk to her in the middle of a grocery store. He wasn’t like every other guy who followed on her heels, begging for her number or for a date, and it was like a breath of fresh air to talk to him. 

“See you around,” she says, a hint of sadness in her voice that he barely catches. 

–

He finds himself thinking about the girl from the grocery store a lot.

It’s been almost a month since he’d last gone shopping.

Jim had even noticed how distracted he had been at work.

_“You okay over there?” The other man had asked, eyes zeroed-in on Grissom._

_“What?”_

_“You seem… off, distracted.” Gil’s face scrunches in dismissal, shaking his head. Jim whistles, shakes his own head, and laughs. “Whoever she is… I gotta meet her.”_

He recalls the conversation as he climbs out of his car, slamming the door shut. It’s his day off, and upon waking up in the afternoon, he’d open the fridge to find his milk had expired last week and the bananas on his counter had turned brown. When he turns down the familiar aisle, he can’t help but wonder what the odds of seeing her again were. She had been pleasant enough to talk to, was easy on the eyes, and seemed friendly. 

Distracted again, he thinks, as he passes up items on the shelf that he needs. His shoulders slump at the realization that he has to turn around, and as he whips the basket in the opposite direction, he nearly collides with another patron. 

“Sorry, I-”

“Hey!” She exclaims when she recognizes him, her smile bright and wide. Her hair is down, loose curls tumbling over her jean-jacket clad shoulders, her makeup fresh and perfect. But he normally didn’t notice these things… so why was he doing it now?

“Hey,” he says back softly, nearly at a loss for words. He finally deduces the likelihood of meeting her again was one in a million, and thinks maybe he needs to stop by a casino on the way home. 

“I was wondering when we’d run into each other again,” she says with a wink. His heart does something it hasn’t done in a while.

“That makes two of us,” he says, pushing his basket off to the side to let other people move past them. He takes note of the hand basket that’s draped over her arm. Inside is vodka, a bottle of orange juice, a few other things.

“You must live close by then,” she insinuates, and he nods.

“Just a few blocks away.” He can feel his palms start to sweat, even with the cold temperatures inside the store. She opens her mouth to say something, but another female voice cuts her off. 

“Catherine! Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Catherine looks back at her friend, and then at Gil. He’s sporting the same boyish grin she’d hoped to see for the past month.

“Catherine,” he says, testing her name on his lips, and then holding out a hand for her to shake. “Gil,” he introduces himself, feeling the warmth of her hand spread up his arm and through his chest. He holds her hand in his a moment longer than necessary, and she uses that hand to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. 

“See you around, Gil,” she mimics their last goodbye, but with his name this time, and as he watches her walk away, he knows it’ll be weeks or months before he sees her again. And if it were any other stranger, he’d be fine with that… but not when it was her.

“Catherine,” he calls out, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Her friend, Stephanie, sighs. The strawberry blonde turns at his voice, and he suddenly feels nauseous. He wants to see her again, but not in a month. And he knows what he’s about to ask her is a long shot, that the chances of her agreeing are slim to none, but he’d be furious with himself if he didn’t at least try. “I wanted…”

The words get caught in his throat, and through the corner of his eye, he can see her friend growing frustrated. Catherine’s closer now, deliberately ignoring the other woman behind her. Her eyes are wide, and so blue. She almost looks hopeful. But he can’t, for the life of him, get the question out. 

“I just wanted to say it was nice to see you again,” he says, his voice still conveying warmness. And although it’s not exactly what she had wanted to hear, she still smiles. 

–

It’s his last night of work before he’s off for a few stretch of days. He hadn’t wanted to use the vacation hours, but his supervisor had told him to either ‘use them or lose them’. He figured he could take the time to drive to Santa Monica and maybe see his mother, or go to the insectarium, possibly catch up on some reading. 

And somehow, she squeezes herself into his plans. 

If he stayed in town, did some shopping, maybe he’d see her again? Would he be able to get the words out this time around, he wonders. He shakes his head. It didn’t matter now, anyway. 

He’s walking down the hall of the crime lab, making his way to the next building over where he’ll find Jim Brass to tell the detective about his upcoming leave, and that he’ll be passing off their current case to another CSI… Conrad Ecklie.

It’s close to five o’clock in the morning by the time he makes it to Jim’s office, a folder between his hands with leads, addresses, phone numbers, name of suspects. The two of them talk for a bit, Jim asking about Gil’s plans, to which Grissom only shrugs… still unsure himself. The detective is leading the two of them out of his office whenever they both hear Gil’s name being called. 

He follows the sound, turning his head, and see’s Catherine sitting in the lobby of the police department. 

“Catherine. What are you doing here,” he asks, leaving Jim behind as he walks up to her. She stands from her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says with a cocked eyebrow. Jim peers over Gil’s shoulder, gets one look at Catherine, and his eyes widen. 

“I work here,” he says, narrowing his eyes. Her mouth is parted in surprise, as she slowly nods her head. 

There’s a loud buzzing noise coming from the door to their left, and Stephanie suddenly appears. When she sees Gil, rolls her eyes.

“What is he… your stalker?”

“Go wait in the car,” she sternly tells her friend, pushing the other girl in the direction of the parking lot. He waits until the doors behind Stephanie close. “I’ll deal with her later,” she says with a bit of annoyance.

“You came all the way out here to bail her out? You’re a good friend,” he says softly in the now empty lobby. 

“Yeah, well… she’d do the same for me.” She looks around them. “So.. you work here? What are you… a cop?”

He shakes his head.

“I’m a crime scene investigator.”

“Crime scene… so… the ‘people’ you work with… are dead people?”

He shrugs his shoulders. She wasn’t completely wrong.

“Not all the time, but… yes.”

He holds his breath, thinking that this is it. This is how he scares her away for good. But to his surprise, she knits her eyebrows together, tilts her head to the side. 

“Cool. You’ll have to tell me about it sometime,” she suddenly says, reaching behind her to grab her coat and her purse. His arms fall to his sides in shock, and his jaw nearly drops. This woman was one of a kind. She’s got him on the hook, she knows it, and she turns to follow suit through the exit doors. 

“How about tomorrow night,” he says without thinking, stopping her with his proposition. She turns to him, an intrigued look on her face. “Let me take you to dinner.” With just the two of them in the lobby, he can hear his heart beating, blood rushing to his ears and making him grow hot in the face. It seems like forever before she’s finally giving him an answer. And he relaxes a bit more when he hears her words.

“I’d like that.” She’s suddenly stalking closer, and his eyes are trained on her. The building could collapse and he’d be rooted to his spot with her as near as she was. He can smell her faint perfume, and it makes him a bit lightheaded. She’s as close to him as ever, and he can see every fine detail of her face. Slowly, he feels the pen that’s been clipped to his jacket pocket slip out from it’s confines, and she’s reaching for one of his hands. She presses the pen to his skin, writing down her address in black ink and instructing him to pick her up at seven. 

And she’s gone. He stares down at the address she had written on his hand, the corner of his mouth lifting. After a few seconds of admiring his hard work, he hears Jim cough behind him. He turns to find the other man leaning against the wall in the darkness. 

“Care to show the rest of the class, Mr. Grissom?” 

He holds up his hand, showing Brass.

“I’ve got a date,” he says proudly. 

–

He’s actually nervous. He hasn’t been on a date in… a long time, and at the thought of having more than just a few minutes with her, he’s both excited and panicked. He’s got the night planned, and only hoped she’d have fun. He leaves his townhouse a few minutes before seven, having mapped out directions to her place beforehand, and realizing that she didn’t live far away. He’s pulling into an apartment complex, finds her building, and parks in an empty spot nearby. He lowers the volume of the radio as he observes his surroundings, and lets out a breath he never knew he was holding. With a racing pulse, he wonders if he should wait for her to come out of the apartment or if he should go and knock on her door. 

He finds himself climbing out of the car when she opens the door to one of the apartments, walking out to meet him. Letting the driver’s side door close, he’s frozen in his spot as she advances. She looks stunning, but he suspects she could make a trashbag look amazing. He wants to tell her as much, but decides against it; he’s sure he’ll say something too forward after a drink or two of liquid courage. 

“Hi,” his voice steaming in the cold night. 

“Right on time. Already starting off on a good foot,” she says, flashing her perfect teeth. He leads her to the passenger side, opening the door and helping her into the car. She shivers off the cold, letting the heat inside of his car warm her up. His smell engulfs her, a faint masculine scent that she finds pleasant. 

When he’s back in the car with her, he reaches up for his seat-belt, and then puts both of his hands up on the steering wheel. She can tell he’s nervous, and can’t help but smile. She reaches out to lay a hand on his outstretched arm, and he nearly flinches.

“Are you okay,” she asks softly, just above the radio. He swallows and nods, loosening his grip on the wheel. 

“Fine. Just…” He trails off, not wanting her to know just how anxious he was, but she can read him like a book.

“Nervous,” she finishes for him, and he looks at her. Her hand is still wrapped around his forearm, and if their date only consisted of her touching his arm, he would be satisfied. “If it makes you feel any better… so am I.” It does… make him feel better, because he suspected this was just another Thursday night for her. “What do you have in mind for tonight,” she asks, trying to change up the mood. 

“I was thinking…” He puts the car in reverse, and she lets her hand finally fall from his arm, pulling it back into her lap. He instantly misses her touch. “We could have dinner at one of the casinos. And if you still find me interesting at the end of the night… maybe grab a drink somewhere?”

She laughs, nods her head to show she likes his plan, and even voices one restaurant she’s been dying to try. He sets off for it without a second thought. Their trip is accompanied by small talk; her asking how his nights at work had been, to which he’d explained that he actually hadn’t been back since the night he asked her out, that he was on a small vacation of sorts. It’s as he pulls the car into one of the parking spots of the casino, that it dawns on her that he’s spending his sparse free time with her. 

He helps her out of the car, they walk together through the hotel and casino until the restaurant she had mentioned comes into view. It’s not too busy for a Thursday night, but he hopes that they’ll still be able to snag a spot. To his delight, they’re seated at a small table meant for two people, complete with empty wine glasses awaited to be filled and a flickering tea candle that’s just enough to illuminate their plates.

He pulls out the chair for her, and she seats herself gracefully. Grabbing the cloth napkin that’s expertly folded on her empty plate, she drapes it across her lap as he rounds the table and sits himself. Mimicking her actions with the cloth, he takes a moment to look around. 

“Good choice,” he says to her, admiring the attention to detail. By the looks of it, it was going to be one expensive dinner, but that wasn’t a concern. She was worth every penny. They both order a glass of wine, and as one waiter pours the red blend, another sets a heavy menu down in front of them.

“To a good first date,” she says, holding up her glass for a toast. He gently lifts his own glass, and they both take a sip. Her eyes close in appreciation, and he sets his glass down. He’d prefer to down the rest of the alcohol, to calm his nerves, but knows he’d look ridiculous. 

“Is that what we’re on? A date?” He says playfully, earning him another smile from her. 

“I like to think so… yes,” she refuses to let go of her own wine glass, taking small sips for the same reason. It wasn’t hard to admit that, though she found him attractive in his own way upon first meeting him in the grocery store, he wasn’t quite her type. Her track record was proof enough, but there was something about him that she couldn’t shake… and with her past relationships not working out, maybe it was time for a change?

“Did you ever think we’d see each other again?” He’s been meaning to ask her this for a long time, curious if she thought about a time when they’d meet again. She seems to be relaxed now, settling into her chair and carefully setting her wine down. 

“Honestly?” He nods his head, encouraging her to continue. “I… didn’t know, but I hoped we would,” she says carefully, not wanting to sound too eager. He seems relieved, which tells her she’s said the right thing. The silence that comes after is comfortable. 

Through the course of their dinner, he’s able to learn many things about her. A few of them being she was a fellow foodie, to which he commented about his love for cooking. He somewhat joked about her coming over to his townhouse in the future so he could prepare a meal for her, which she agreed happily. He learned that her birthday was around the corner… March, and had already begun formulating a plan; that she had been born in Montana… raised by a single-mother, had moved across the California coast for her mother’s work. 

Their dinner plates had long been cleared and their glasses empty by the time he realizes how long they’ve been sitting there. It felt as if only an hour had passed, but it was already nearing ten o’clock, and they were the only people left. He hopes that she’s still up for the drinks he had mentioned earlier, maybe at a bar down the strip somewhere.

He pays, slipping in a few bills that’ll give their server a generous tip, and stands from the table. Reaching out, he offers her a hand, which she takes without hesitation. He pulls her from the chair, savoring the way her hand feels in his. He expects her to take her hand back once she’s gathered her footing, but he looks down at their joined hands when he feels her squeeze, then lace her fingers through his. 

“Drinks,” she asks, as they walk out of the restaurant, hand in hand. 

“Drinks,” he confirms, pulling her along until they’ve made it out onto the Strip. The cold is refreshing, but after a moment, he feels her move closer to his side as they continue their walk.

–

After a round of drinks, he switches to water so he can drive her home in good conscious. She had loosened up thanks to the wine from dinner, and then the martini at the bar. And as promised, he had told her more about his job at the crime lab. She had asked what a normal day was like, and he had chuckled, then explained.

“It all depends. One day we’re investigating a homicide, and the next day… a robbery.”

“But the homicides are your favorite,” she says, assuming correctly. 

“They’re often the most challenging, yes.”

“I mean… what is it… that you do?” He thinks for a second, then begins spitting out a list of things that all seem to spark her interest.

“Fingerprinting. Photographing the crime scene. Identifying murder weapons…” He trails off, leaving out the more gruesome parts of his job. Even still, she’s shaking her head in amazement.

“So, you get paid to solve puzzles.”

“Essentially.”

“Man, I am so jealous of you right now,” she says, her infectious laughter awakening his own chuckle. She brings her martini glass to her lips, takes a slow sip. “I wish I could do something like that.”

He looks over at her, trying to decipher what she meant. He’s confused, to say the least. Why couldn’t she? Unless she was a criminal, or didn’t have some kind of college degree, she was more than capable of being an investigator- hell, she would probably be better at it than some of the people who he currently worked with. 

“Why can’t you?”

She laughs again, but this time… at herself. 

“Are you kidding? You’re like… this well put-together, smart-as-all-get-out investigator.” He shakes his head, brushing off her words… thinking it all nonsense. “And me?” She takes another sip of vodka. “I know how to shake my ass on a stage and take money from strange men,” she says under her breath, the words leaving her mouth before she can weigh the danger of saying them aloud. She hadn’t wanted to let him in on her dirty little secret so soon, but the cat was out of the bag. And the worst that could happen would be for him to call her a bad name, something she’s heard before, and leave her in the middle of the bar. It wouldn’t be her worst Thursday night. But his soft voice breaks through her rambling subconscious. 

“Catherine, you seem like a very intelligent woman. You would do well.”

It was all he had to say to get the gears turning in her head. And it’s as she sits in his car, having been parked in front of her apartment for a few minutes, that she decides she’s going to do it. She’s going to drive to the community college before her shift, request some information, and put together a savings for tuition. 

“Come on. I’ll walk you up,” he says, turning off the engine and helping her out of the car. She’s quiet as they walk up to her door, and when they come to a stop, she looks up at him.

“Do you really mean it? You think I can do it?”

“There’s no doubt in my mind,” he says instantly, his voice soft and convincing.

“I’ll look into it, then.” 

It delights him immensely, and he can’t contain it. 

“But more importantly… I believe you promised me a home-cooked meal.” He nods at her words, thrilled that she’s taking him up on his offer. 

“Whenever you’re free.” 

It’s technically Friday, and she knows she’ll have the most opportunity to make her money on weekend nights. She wants nothing more than to see him again later on tonight, but she’s committed now- she’s got to bust her ass for just a few more months until she can finally climb her way out, and she’s not going to let anything stop her. 

“How about Monday night?”

“Monday night works.” He gives her his address, wanting to give her more control over their next night together. She could drive there, have a way to leave if she wanted… and she rewards him with something he hadn’t expected. 

Thanks to the strapped heels she has on, she’s only a few inches shorter than him, and it’s easier to kiss him. It’s a gentle, soft kiss that holds only promise of more, and he’s still slightly shocked that it’s even happening. She begins to pull away when he doesn’t respond, but his hand quickly comes up to cup her cheek, keeping her in place. 

–

Monday rolls around, and she’s at an all-time low. It’s nearly four o’clock in the morning when she makes it back home. Stephanie was fast asleep in her own bed, having skipped out on work last night. Their shared apartment is small, but there’s two bedrooms, a bathroom with hot water that lasts longer than ten minutes, and nice enough neighbors. But she longed for a place of her own, not having to worry about stepping on anyone’s toes in her own home. 

By the time she showers and dresses, the sun is starting to come up. She crawls into bed, pulling the heavy comforter over her tired body, and sets an alarm so she doesn’t miss her date with Gil. The last thing she remembers before passing out is the way he had kissed her the night before.

She startles awake when the alarm clock next to her head goes off. 

It’s four o’clock in the afternoon, and although she’s almost slept a solid ten hours, she feels as if it had been one. Her limbs feel heavy, and as she turns over onto her back, she tries to let her eyes adjust to the sunlight pouring into her room. She can hear her roommate in the next room over, and sighs. Wiping at her face, she allows herself a few more minutes in the warmth of her bed before dragging herself out. 

She had promised him that she’d arrive sometime after the sun had set, and she had approximately an hour to get to his townhouse. 

Sitting at her small vanity, she does quick work of her makeup, settling for a more natural look, and fixes her hair. The natural waves of strawberry blonde hair are pulled back into a simple pony tail, and she dresses for the night. There’s nothing in the way she looks to cause suspicion about her plans for the night, but she knows it won’t stop Stephanie from asking. So she braces herself as she grabs her purse, her keys, and heads out. 

She finds his townhouse easily, can even spot which one is his as she parks. All it takes is a few soft knocks at his door before he’s welcoming her in. He offers to take her jacket, hangs it up, and when he turns back around, she holds out her arms for a friendly hug. She can smell whatever it is he’s cooking, and her mouth waters. 

“Hope you’re hungry,” he says, leading her to the kitchen. Awaiting her is two, tall glasses filled with ice, a bottle of orange juice that’s just begun to sweat, and a bottle of vodka. She lifts an eyebrow, points to the bottles with a grin.

“What’s this?”

He turns to look at what she’s pointing at.

“I uh… remember you having that in your basket at the grocery store.” He turns his attention back to simmering food on his stove, and she slowly hoists herself up on his bar stool. He grins when he hears her pouring their drinks. 

“You know… when I want to be a bit more refined, I add champagne instead of vodka.” He genuinely laughs, reaches back for the drink she’s poured him. Their fingers bump together as he blindly grabs for his glass, wanting to keep his attention on their dinner. 

She settles back on the stool, takes a generous sip of her drink, and lets her eyes pass over him with his back to her. His dark shirt fits him well, but a tad too loose. She doesn’t take him for being very fashionable, everything he owned being very reasonable. 

Taking the time to look around his townhouse, she notices how minimal and clean it is, only confirming her suspicions that he was a private person, but… normal. And after her history with a handful of men, one in particular, it’s like a breath of fresh air to be in his company. 

“So I visited an advisor down at Western today.” His head turns in interest, his eyebrows raising to encourage her to continue. “I think I’m going to do it,” she says after a moment’s pause, her heart fluttering as she watches a genuine smile grace his features.

The dinner he cooks is fantastic, and she tells him as much. They sit together at his bar top, her legs swinging from the high stool she sits on. Conversation comes so easy, and he marvels at how effortless it is to talk to her. She’s witty, and smart, beautiful and funny. When they finish eating, he clears their plates, and she pours another round of drinks. 

He tilts his head before taking a sip of his own drink, asks her if she’ll be okay to drive home, to which she promises it’ll be her last drink. They move to his couch where he turns the television on, some movie he doesn’t know the name to is playing, and he lowers the volume so they can continue their conversation. 

They talk more of her future plans for school; which classes she’ll take, study tricks that helped him succeed in his own courses, plans to possibly find a place of her own so she could quietly study… and finally, what’ll happen when she graduates.

“You have to put in a good word for me,” she teases, leaning over to nudge him gently with her shoulder. They slowly get closer and closer to each other on the couch, until she kicks off her shoes, lounges back against the armrest of the couch, and drapes her legs over his thighs. He cocks an eyebrow at her, and she hides her grin by taking another sip of alcohol. She’s grown more comfortable with him as the night had progressed, and he seemed to be happy with it. He rests his own arms over her legs, one hand gently rubbing up and down her calf as he explains what work is like at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. 

“You know, if ever need a place to study… you’re always welcome here.”

“I couldn’t,” she says, shaking her head. It was such a nice gesture, but she didn’t want to take advantage of him. 

“I insist. I’m not even here half of the time,” he argues. “And if I am here… then I promise not to disturb you.”

She finishes off her screwdriver, places the empty glass carefully down on the small coffee table that sits off to the side of her. He had long finished his second, his face a bit flushed from the alcohol. He didn’t really drink, and it showed. He hadn’t meant to, but suddenly finds his hand higher up on her leg, curling around her thigh. 

His fingers feel like they’re burning through her jeans, and she can feel where his fingertips are digging into her skin. She exhales, slips her eyes shut, and swallows hard. When she finally opens her eyes to look at him, his blue eyes have grown dark. His mouth hangs open just a bit, his own breathing starting to become a bit heavier. 

She drags herself up the couch slowly, maneuvering herself expertly until she’s slowly descending on his lap. She’s straddling him, her jeans stretching over her thighs as she lowers herself onto him. Her hands are slow to join in, but gently come to rest on either of his shoulders. She plays with the collar of his casual, dark gray polo. It’s a move she’s done countless times to paying customers, but she doesn’t feel the normal need to rush through this. It’s his turn to swallow hard when she finally places her weight onto his lap. The heat radiating from her was enough to make his mouth water. 

He feels her fingers on either side of his neck, and nothing could prepare him for what would happen next. She bends a bit, tilting her head slightly and lowering her lips until they were a breath away from his own. He doesn’t know if he’s got it in him to kiss her first, and he feels so lightheaded, that if she doesn’t kiss him soon… he’s afraid he’ll pass out. 

The kiss she places to his lips is soft, gentle. He’s not even sure if they’re really kissing, but when he feels her apply more pressure, he snaps. He kisses her back, excitedly. He decides then and there that he loves kissing this woman, that he wants to do it forever. She’s the one to part her lips first, asking permission to deepen their kiss, which he instantly grants. 

She moans into his mouth when their tongues finally meet, and his hands grip her waist, pulling her harder against him. She moans again, and he feels a rush of blood traveling to his groin. He kisses her, she grinds against him, he tightens his hold against her waist, she rolls her hips while sticking her tongue in his mouth, and he almost dies. 

When she pulls away for air, her lips are swollen and her eyes glossed over. He could do this all night if she’d let him, but he releases the grip on her waist, and she slowly pulls back. They both know where things are headed if they don’t stop, and as much as he wants to continue, he can’t… This isn’t some random hook-up for him, and he wants her to know it.

She backs off a bit, looks down at him and hopes she hasn’t made a fool of herself for looking so… desperate. He can recognize the sudden anxiety within her, and reaches up to frame her face, gently moving her head until she’s looking at him. 

“I don’t… want to mess this up,” he says slowly, trying to find the right words. For a second, he wonders if maybe all this was to her was indeed a hookup. In which, who was he to deny her what she wanted, but he deeply feels that he’s met someone special… someone who was going to be apart of his life forever.

She smiles, carefully disentangles herself from his lap, and cuddles up to him, watching the muted movie with his arm around her.

–

She had wanted to come back one day this week to hang out with him, and he promised that they’d go out… do something fun. And she looks forward to it. It’s what keeps her going as the days drag on. He had told her that he officially goes back to work Sunday night, and though it would leave her tired as all get out, she promised herself that she’d have breakfast with him Sunday morning. 

It’s currently two o’clock in the morning, a Saturday now, and she finds herself on the main stage. She’s tired, her feet ache, and all she wants to do is get out of here. But the sultry smile she gives the patrons sitting close by the stage, empty drink glasses scattered about the place, tells a different story. 

She’s wearing an assortment of sheer, layered clothing, and all but one piece will come off in a matter of minutes. There’s a solemn rock song playing overhead, and holy shit- had she chosen this? She knows the song, has heard it in the club before, but never really thought of it as her ‘style’. Nothing could be more appropriate, she thinks, as she watches her ex-boyfriend walk through the doors. He’s cleared by security, heads to the bar where he spends a moment socializing, and then turns to see her… 

One of her hands is high on the pole as she warms up, slowly twisting and turning around the stationary metal rod. She acts as if she doesn’t see him, whipping her head around quickly so the loose blonde curls shield her face. She allows herself to slowly slide down the front of the pole, spreading her knees as she balances on the balls of her feet, which are encased in a pair of five inch heels. 

She’s danced her ass off all night, her goal to make enough cash to top off her savings, an apartment of her own weighing heavily on her mind. 

_“If you could see yourself now, baby. It’s not my fault you used to be so in control.”_

Turning around the pole, she reaches for the hem of her sheer top, pulls it over her head and let’s it fall to the stage. She’s left in a black lace push-up and a black thong that leaves nothing to the imagination. She sees Eddie take a seat at center stage, right in front of where she’s dancing, and decides to turn her attention to another customer. She crawls on all fours, stopping just short of where the older gentleman sits, and reaches behind her to unclasp her bra. 

_“You’re going to roll right over this one. Just roll me over, let me go.”_

Her breasts spill free of their constraints, and she watches in satisfaction as the men in the club suddenly draw their attention to her. She tosses her head back, her curls falling over her shoulders and swinging behind her as she lets her hands trail down her torso, her thumbs catching in the waistband of her thong. 

She spends the majority of the song ignoring her ex-boyfriend, who seems to have money to spend, and gets her cash elsewhere. When the song is over, and another dancer is coming onto the stage, is when Eddie stands up. 

“Cath,” he calls out, watching as she quickly sweeps up the stray bills. “Catherine,” he says more sternly, earning him a deathly glare from her. 

“What,” she says quickly.

“Can I… can we talk? Please?”

“Song’s over,” she says, nodding off towards a small brunette who’s about to take her turn on the pole. 

“Wait. Come on,” he pleads, pushing himself back from the stage, rounding the outskirts until he’s met by a bouncer, who stops him with a hand to the chest. 

“You heard the lady,” a deep voice tells Eddie.

Backstage, she cusses under her breath. Eddie hadn’t shown his face in the club for a good part of three months, and now he was back. She wanted to run out of the doors and go… home? No, he knew where she lived. It doesn’t take long for her to get the idea. Gil wouldn’t turn her away.

She’s being flagged down, all of a sudden, by a manager. She’s got a request for a private dance, and she grows cautious. She decides then and there that she’ll call it a night after this dance, taking her losses in tips by leaving an extra two hours early. To her relief, it’s not Eddie who’s requested the dance… it’s some corporate-looking man, clad in a business suit. 

She looks at herself in the body-length mirror, checks her reflection, takes a deep breath, and rolls her head one side to the other. She was going to give this last dance all she had, and then leave.

Thirty minutes later, she stalks into the dressing room, straightening out the money lawyer-man had given her. A total of eight-hundred dollars was weighing heavy in her hand, and after changing into more sensible clothing, she pays her house-fee and leaves.

She manages to slip by Eddie, who had found another dance to occupy his time. She scoffs in disgust as she pushes through the back exit. The sudden cold Nevada air hits her like a train, and she shivers. It seeps through her jacket as she unlocks her car. Quickly starting the engine, she locks the doors and cranks the heater as high as it will go. She waits until she feels the faintest of warm air against her face before ripping off her gloves and shoving her hands against the vents.

It’s hard to breath easy in the cold car, and it’s not any easier when the images of another girl grinding on Eddie come into her head. She lets her head fall against the ice-cold steering wheel, wrestling with her emotions.

She didn’t care about Eddie Willows. She didn’t give a single fuck about him or the girl taking his money. 

So why was it so hard to force him out of her mind?

“Fuck,” she cusses loudly, angry with herself for letting it get to her. She had given him the better parts of her, had trusted him, had hoped to make a life with him one day… all for him to go and cheat on her months ago. And when he had promised to change, she had believed him. Oh, how stupid she had been, she thought. She was done with him, she had made up her mind, but it still didn’t hurt any less when things like this happened.

She can feel the corners of her eyes grow wet with tears, but she refuses to let them fall. Straightening up in her seat, she jumps when she sees him standing outside of her window. His voice is muffled through the glass.

“Get out of the car, Cath.”

“Go to hell,” she spits, relieved she had locked the doors. He reaches up to bang on the glass of her window, but she’s speeding off before he can damage her car. Somewhere off in the desert, lightening flashes and illuminates the city. One by one, raindrops fall against her windshield. There’s only one place she wants to go now, and it’s not her apartment. She knows he’ll welcome her in. 

Out running the assault of rain, she finds herself standing on his doorstep. Whether it’s tears or rain that’s made her mascara run, she isn’t sure. She wipes away the makeup. Only part of her feels guilty for knocking on his door at this ungodly hour, but it doesn’t stop her from doing it. 

“Please don’t be asleep,” she mutters under her breath, checking her watch. Her head snaps up as she hears the lock disengage. He looks surprised, but is quick to usher her in when he realizes the rain is relentless. He locks up behind her, and she looks around his townhouse. One lamp on in the living room, a bookmarked scientific journal, an almost empty cup of coffee. 

“You okay,” he asks softly, his voice barely above the storm outside. She turns to look at him, takes in the way he’s dressed- a plain, black t-shirt and red flannel pajama pants, barefoot. She suspects there will be plenty enough time later for her to explain about Eddie, about why she’s really here at three-thirty in the morning, so she only nods her head at his question. “Do you need-”

“I need you to kiss me. Again,” she says, confidently. She knows it’s a silly request, at such an hour, but she wants to feel something other than anger. And if she was serious about turning her life around, her usual methods for changing her mood were a thing of the past. She had been meaning to quit, anyway. 

“Catherine,” he says her name cautiously, unsure of what to do. It’ll be their defining quality, although neither of them quite know it yet; him so quiet and calculated, and her so sure of herself. 

“Oh for God’s sake, Gil,” she says, impatiently, before taking charge and initiating their kiss. It’s simple, slow and to the point at first. But as the seconds pass, the heat between them grows, and her jacket slips to the floor. She can taste the stale coffee on his tongue as she deepens their kiss, hungry and desperate for him. Lightheaded from lack of oxygen, she loses a bit of her balance and falls back against one of his many bookshelves. She can feel the cold metal digging into her back as she pulls him along with her. 

_‘Pleasures of Entomology’_ falls to the floor as his hands shoot out to steady himself, trying to prevent from crashing into her. But it does no good. His body slams into hers, pressing her harder against his bookshelf, and she moans into his mouth. 

The framed pictures of mummified butterflies start to rattle in their place.

This isn’t how he had imagined their first time. He had romanticized it too much, he realizes. There wouldn’t be any intimate dinner, no candles, no wine, no gently laying her down on the bed- at least… not tonight, anyway. 

He pulls her away from his books, slipping his hands under the material of her tight shirt. Pulling it easily over her head, she’s left before him in the same black lace push-up she had worn earlier that night. He is positive that he’s never gotten this hard as fast. He takes a moment to admire the view, and she grins.

“Like it,” she asks, and he nods, his tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip. “Wait until you see the rest of my arsenal,” she winks, and he loses all patience. He’s trying to pull her through his dimly lit townhouse, backing his way to his bedroom, but they grow distracted numerous times along the way. His plain t-shirt is the next article of clothing to hit the floor, and she takes a moment to admire how in-shape he is. She had imagined he’d have some sort of ordinary body, and he did for the most part. Slightly defined pecks, swollen biceps, a flattened abdomen… she touches him, and he kisses her harder. 

It’s his turn to feel his back press up against something, and he realizes it’s the kitchen wall. Her hands are trailing down his muscles, causing them to flex in the wake of her touch. She presses her body against him, her breasts nearly spilling out of their confines and she feels how hard he is. She catches his bottom lip between her teeth, gently bites down and lets her hand cup his hardness. 

He groans, pushes them away from the wall, and reaches down to hook his hands around the backs of her thighs. He hoists her up against him, and her legs go around his waist instinctively, as if they’ve done this a million times before. In his arms she looms above him, and as she changes the angle of their kiss, her hair falls to curtain their faces. He gets a whiff of coconut and vanilla, something sweet, and he inhales deeply.

Wanting to catalog this moment to memory, he forces himself to take his time. He holds her steady in the middle of his kitchen, and slows down their kiss. It’s sensual now, and with purpose. She knows that if things continue, they won’t be able to go back. But she doesn’t want to go back. 

They suddenly find themselves in his bedroom. It’s simple, neat… as much as she’d expect. It smells strongly of him, and as she falls back against his bed, she can see her chest is heaving. She draws her knees up, watches as he settles beneath her. She begins to unclasp the button of her jeans, and he helps pull them down her legs, leaving her in a black lace thong. He keeps his eyes focused on her, tossing her jeans behind him. 

His hand rests on her knee, and she lets her legs fall to either side. Somewhere along their journey to his bedroom, she had run her fingers through his curly hair. It was disheveled and made him look that much more irresistible. He keeps his hand on one of her knees, squeezing gently as she cocks an eyebrow at him, challenging him. Arching her back, she lets her eyes close as his hands tickle the inside of her legs. It feels like it takes forever, but his thumbs are finally hooking into the waistband of her thong, much like she had done herself earlier that night. As he pulls it away, she’s able to unclasp her bra at the same time, effectively leaving her naked in front of him. 

If someone would have told him a few months ago that he’d be having sex with a beautiful girl he had met at a grocery store in the wee hours of the morning, he would’ve laughed it off. 

He finds himself moving closer to her on the bed, enough to where her knees come back together slowly to trap him against her, pressed against his sides. He wants nothing more than to touch her, but she’s motioning with a nod of her head to his remaining pajama pants. He loses them in a matter of seconds, taking his boxers along. Their eyes have adjusted to the darkness of his bedroom, and she pushes herself up to kiss him again.

This is the first time in a while he’s had a girl in his bed, and for some reason… he’s not as nervous. Every time he’s with her, there’s a new found confidence that hadn’t been there before. So he cups her face, holding her in place as they kiss, and lowers her onto the bed slowly. 

–

A month or so passes before he gets the call from San Francisco. A job offer, of some sorts, to teach at the University. Their crime lab is the next to contact him, and offer a bonus for his help on ‘bug-related cases’, they had said. And normally, he would’ve accepted the offer without a second thought. 

But things were complicated now. 

He didn’t know where he stood with Catherine, or what she wanted, or what he wanted for that matter. 

Closing his eyes, he can feel the start of a migraine coming. He knows in the end, he’s going to San Francisco. His mother is there, his old home, a few close friends… he just doesn’t know how to tell Catherine. So when he meets her for breakfast at a small diner, he decides that he’s just going to flat-out tell her… and hope for the best.

He’s already sitting in their usual booth, a cup of dark coffee steaming in front of him, when she comes through the door. She struts closer, reaches out to place a hand on his shoulder before giving him a friendly peck on the cheek, and takes a seat across from him. Their waitress is on the move with her usual orange juice. 

“How was your shift,” she asks, settling into the booth. “Better than mine, I hope.” She starts to ramble about whatever happened in the club earlier that night, her eyes widening with her animated expressions, and it hits him hard- he’s going to miss her like crazy. “Earth to Gil.” His head snaps up to look at her, and he gives a soft apology. “You okay?”

He nods, fidgets with the plastic stirrer in his coffee mug.

“Just trying to figure out a way to tell my best friend about my new job offer,” he says, hoping she’ll catch on. And although she seems to be excited for him, she’s more caught up on the fact he’s declared her as his best friend. She brings her hand to her chest in a mockingly playful manner, making him shake his head in amusement.

“Little ole’ me? What have I done to deserve such an honor,” she says, his smile cracking wider. _Jesus Christ_ , he really was going to miss her. “Okay, okay. Tell me all about it!”

He takes a deep breath, looks up at her.

“The university called… offered for me to come teach for a few semesters. Entomology. Maybe even help out the crime lab if they need me.”

She smiles, reaches out to grab his forearm. Subtly, he sucks in a breath. 

“That’s great! Which university? Could you be one of my professors, perhaps,” she says with a wider smile, giving him a suggestive look… but he’s not smiling.

“In San Francisco, Cath,” he says softly, feeling her grip on his arm loosen. 

“Oh.” He knows she’s trying to work things over in her head, her smile slowly fading as she searches his face for any explanation. “When do you leave,” she asks softly, pulling her hand back into her lap. 

“Next week,” he says without missing a beat. 

She wants to laugh, or cry, maybe both. 

“Way to give a girl some time to say goodbye,” she says, looking out the window of the diner, refusing to let him see the tears welling up in her eyes. He’s frozen in his spot, doesn’t know what to do or what to say. 

The sound of a bell goes off in the kitchen, and their waitress comes back. Catherine keeps her eyes trained on the sunrise off in the distance as Gil gently dismisses the diner employee. He opens his mouth to say something, but stops himself as she takes in a deep breath, wipes away any stray tears, and turns to face him.

“You’ll have to give me your new address. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t come visit?”

His shoulders slump, and he nods sadly, reaching for his coffee.

–

The day comes before he knows it. Everything in his townhouse had been packed away, put onto a moving truck, and was currently making it’s way across the desert to their new home. He marvels at how much bigger the space looks, and standing in the middle of the living room, his eyes are trained on where his couch used to be. 

He tells himself that it’ll only be for a couple of months. That he’ll come back one day, and that he’ll see her again. But he wouldn’t kid himself; she was a beautiful, intelligent woman… some other man was going to sweep her off of her feet in no time. 

There’s a soft knock on his opened door, and he turns to see her. Her black leather jacket wrapped tightly around her. She stays her distance, leans against the door frame with arms crossed over her chest.

“Today’s the day, huh,” she says, her voice nearly echoing in his living room. He nods at her words. “Came to say goodbye… and to show you this,” she pushes herself away from the door frame, reaching inside of her jacket and pulling out a white envelope. She hands it to him, and he takes it carefully. 

The header gives it away instantly, and his eyes scan the paper quickly. A smile spreads on his face. She got into Western… and started classes in the summer. God, what he wouldn’t give to push this whole ordeal back a few months… if he could just have a little more time with her, make things official…

Reluctantly, he hands the acceptance letter back to her, but she doesn’t make a move for it.

“It’s got my new address on it. I expect a letter from you every now and then, you hear?”

He wistfully chuckles, nods, and slips the envelope into his pocket. 

“See you around,” she says with hopeful eyes, turning to leave his empty townhouse. It had been hard enough to come see him in the first place, and she wasn’t sure if she could stand to watch him leave. Part of her hopes he stops her, that he changes his mind and stays… the potential they could have as a couple weighing heavy on her mind. And when he calls out to her, she stops, her heart beating frantically in her chest.

She turns just outside of the door.

“I wanted…”

He’s suddenly thrown back, inside of a particular grocery store, too nervous to ask her out on a date. And just like last time, he’s too anxious to get the words out. Another hopeful look from her… she wasn’t past skipping town, moving out to the beach; she could take her clothes off for money anywhere. But she needs to hear those three words come from his mouth before she’ll do it. 

"I’ll miss you,” he says… a compromise, he thinks. 

“Don’t fall in love with any cute girls in those beach-side grocery stores,” she says, leaving him before she can see the boyish grin she’s grown to adore.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you liked it!


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